15 posts tagged “old 97's”

My heart wasn't in it - not for one single minute.  But even though I slacked through most of the month, I'm not about to shirk on the obligatory encore.  Rocktober doesn't end until the Old 97's take the stage.  Which means that today - finally - our long national nightmare is over.

Last night I headed to the Black Cat for a second consecutive evening.  I needed to exorcise the demons of Wednesday night's debacle, and fortunately the Thursday night headliner was both energetic and talented.

Rhett Miller called his backing band the Serial Lady Killers.  The last time I saw them, they were the Believers, but it was the same band.  And I had the same mixed feelings both times.  I've got no qualms about a solo acoustic Rhett show, but it's strange seeing a band that's not the Old 97's performing Old 97's songs.  It's kind of like going out and running into a friend who's cheating on their significant other.  (I guess.  That's never actually happened to me.)  On the other hand, it's always preferable to be at the Black Cat instead of the 9:30 Club, and it's never as crowded as an Old 97's show.  And Rhett is not so deluded to think that we're there to hear only the solo material.

And, as I learned last night, he plays songs that the rest of the band doesn't want to play.  It hadn't occurred to me that I hadn't seen the Old 97's play "Nineteen" in a while, but I guess that's one they don't want to do.  My favorite Rhett Miller solo song is an Old 97's outtake that he rerecorded for his second record.  I always wondered why it never made it onto an Old 97's release.  But I guess if the band isn't interested in performing "Nineteen" any more, they probably also aren't interested in performing the song written as a response.  I knew going into the show he wouldn't be playing this.  It's a duet, and Rachael Yamagata isn't a Serial Lady Killer.

I had a somewhat humbling - if unsurprising - trip to the doctor today.  I've been freaking out about, well, literally everything lately and started to notice some tightness in my chest over the past couple of days.  Which naturally caused me to freak out a little more.  Hence the trip to the doctor.  Long story short - I'm fine, but my heart rate is on the fast side of normal.  It's a Fiat, when it should be a BMW.  (Yes, my doctor actually said that.)  I'm supposed to get more cardio exercise (which: check) and drink less coffee.  That second item is going to be even more painful than the cardio.  Good thing for me it's just a heart.  It ain't worth nothin'.

We learned the second time we saw the Old 97's that the show isn't over until they play "Timebomb."  So maybe you've figured out by now that Rocktober isn't over until the Old 97's take the stage.  We're not always going to close with the same song, though.  This year sees our personal favorite wrapping things up.  We'd like to extend our thanks to Valarae and Cap'n Crunch for joining us this past month.  And thank you - you've been a great audience.  See you next time.

Anybody who's even halfway been paying attention around here knows I enjoy the music of the Old 97's.  They don't do anything groundbreaking, but that's okay.  Not every band has to change popular music, and there's nothing wrong with liking those that don't.  I realize this is an awkward concept for the post-ironic hipsters to grasp, but if more of them were as enlightened as I, the world would be a much happier place.  We'd immediately eliminate a ton of pointless bickering. Jodi wouldn't have to pretend that the Replacements have some sort of continuing influential legacy.  Dabysan wouldn't mistakenly use words like "vital" and "important" when describing the Libertines.  U2's entire fan base would cease to exist.  The Old 97's craft airtight pop songs and rock the shit out of them in their live show.  Like I said, it's not groundbreaking, but it really is enough.  Not everybody gets to be an astronaut when they grow up.

So yeah, I dig the Old 97's.  But the irony is that I haven't immediately liked a single one of their records since Too Far to Care, probably not coincidentally the first one I bought.  Their newest release - Blame It On Gravity - is no different, and like most of the others, I've come around (so to speak) in the three weeks I have spent with it.  I can quibble with details like the Killers-esque vocal effects on the lead single "Dance With Me," but I can't argue that its menacing surf-rock vibe would be out of place on their sophomore record (and second-best effort), Wreck Your Life.  The other, this time lilting, beach-flavored tune "She Loves the Sunset" reminds me of "Dancing With Tears" off of their debut.  In short, they really have gone back to their roots and turned up the amps a bit.  I guess what bothered me most initially about this record was that it's a departure from the Kinks-inspired pop sensibility of their later work to which I'd grown accustomed.

One of the reviews I read recently described Rhett Miller's lyrics as having "one foot in the bar and one foot in the library."  I won't deny that I wish that foot was still planted a little bit more firmly in the bar these days, but then Rhett's basically the same age as me and my foot isn't in the bar as much as it used to be either.  There are still more than a few great lyrics that seem simple until you realize you never thought of them.  ("You've got to be a fool to be a fool in love.")  Ken remains a solid journeyman guitarist, despite some highly unfortunate facial hair.  Philip is the Old 97s' secret weapon; he's got that Johnny Cash freight train drum beat down cold, and the record doesn't really begin until his drum fills a minute into the opening track.  His work is so solid that I won't even complain that his part on the rocker "Early Morning" is recycled from "Four Leaf Clover."  Murry's songs are, however, unfortunately and disappointingly sub-par and his bouncy bass line on "Ride" makes me think the song would be better suited for Rhett's next solo outing, but his backing vocals are - as always - exquisite.  If Philip is secret weapon number one, Murry and his harmony vox are a very close second.

Blame It On Gravity is by no means a perfect record, but then it's probably too much to ask any band to deliver more than one perfect record in their career.  An outing like Too Far to Care - to say nothing of the aforementioned kick-ass live show - is enough to buy a lifetime of credibility.  The Old 97's cashed in on some of that credibility over the past six years, but it's nice to see - and hear - them try to recapture some of what made them so interesting in the first place.

Here's To The Halcyon

Old 97's

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I'll be honest: yesterday's post was mostly filler.  I was marking time and padding the archives on the way to this post - post #504, for those keeping track at home - which was to be my review of the new Old 97's record Blame It On Gravity.  This confluence would have amused me.  (And only me, because I hadn't planned to mention it and I highly doubt even the other Old 97's fans among us would have registered the tenuous reference without some sort of cue.  Never let it be said I am not a huge nerd.)  But I find today there are more pressing matters.

The last few times Built to Spill has been through town, I've bailed on the shows.  I'm not proud of this.  I'm not especially sorry either, but still I am not proud.  That sort of behavior is mostly inexcusable regarding a beloved band.  However, I don't feel it's entirely unjustified.  One of the things I appreciate about Built to Spill in general and Doug Martsch in particular is their/his embrace of 1970's arena rock.  But it's one thing to name-check Neil Young; it's quite another to perform twenty minute covers of "Cortez the Killer."  Doug has become sort of an indie-rock guitar god - and rightly so - but I still don't care to stand through eons of wankery.

That said, there ain't nothing - and I mean nothing - that will keep me away from the 9:30 Club on September 23 of this year, when BtS is slated to perform in its entirety their masterpiece (and desert island record) Perfect From Now On.  I might even consider going to Baltimore to see them the following evening.  I mean, they're bringing the cellist with them on tour.  I haven't seen them perform with a cellist since they opened for Superchunk at the Black Cat back in '95.  And yes, I am fully aware that last sentence makes me sound at least thirty-aught-six years old.

And since I let the cat out of the bag, here's that tangentially relevant Old 97's song.

504

Old 97's

In honor of today's announcement of the release date and track listing and subsequent tour of the new Old 97's record, here's frontman Rhett Miller performing a deep album cut off of their debut.  I saw this in person, actually.  This clip is from that show a couple of months ago at which Emma scared the bejeezus out of me.

Last month, we attended a solo acoustic concert of Old 97's frontman Rhett Miller.  It was a loose show; he was performing just because.  And so late in the set he debuted a song he claimed never before to have performed live.  It was a political song - a protest song, addressed to a "Rumsfeldian" character - written at the behest of a friend who had just completed a book based on his experience in Iraq.  It kinda sucked.

To be fair, Rhett said at the outset that when approached by his friend he was skeptical.  As he put it, he - Rhett - writes "songs about girls."  And how.  For a while there, he wrote some of the best - and by "the best" we mean great songs about how girls can fuck you up and guys will take it and come back for more.  Because, well... they're girls.  [See: "If My Heart Was A Car," "Big Brown Eyes," "Wish The Worst," "Come Around," "Doreen." -Ed.]  But lately, since he got married to a model, he's been writing saccharine crap about marriage proposals that inspires arguments.

The 97's have a new record coming out this spring, and we're hoping for the sake of the songs that Rhett and Erica have been arguing lately.  Anyway, here's a timely older Murray number.  Sorry about the shaky-cam.  Just pretend you're watching "Cloverfield."